


A Game for the Dark, the Shameless, and the Bold

by wickedlore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry Potter, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Costumes, F/F, Games, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Making Out, Mild Smut, Party, Party Games, Public Hand Jobs, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Roleplay, Room of Requirement, Room of Requirement Shenanigans, Sex Games, Shameless Smut, Slytherin Common Room, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Smut, Smutty, Strip Games, Top Draco Malfoy, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-02 20:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17270819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlore/pseuds/wickedlore
Summary: Harry is dragged to a masquerade party hosted by the Slytherins, but what he expects and what he receives are two entirely different things.





	A Game for the Dark, the Shameless, and the Bold

**Author's Note:**

> Keep the charm that causes them to be unrecognizable to each other in mind. Also... fair warning, Draco's favorite word in this fic is "fuck".

     Harry was late. He rummaged through his shoulder bag, barely remembering to throw on his mask as Daphne dragged him through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "We're going to be late," Daphne grumbled, stating the obvious. Harry only offered her a smile. 

     When Daphne had brought up the idea of a secret, semi-erotic masquerade ball hosted by the Slytherin eighth years, he hadn't known whether to accept or not. Semi-erotism? Sure. A masquerade, where he couldn't identify his friends from his enemies? No. Not to mention, the ball itself was a costume party; the theme was fantasy characters, and Harry had chosen to dress as something rather uncreative. 

     Daphne's periwinkle dress, belonging to the maiden from  _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_ , fluttered behind her, stained with faux blood. Harry couldn't fathom why she would ruin such a beautiful dress for something as idiotic as a masquerade. In contrast to the dress's delicate beauty, Harry was dressed in an elaborate pirate costume designed by Luna, paired with a matching cloth mask that covered everything except for his lips and eyes. Daphne’s mask was similar; but instead of gold, her mask was made out of white silk and blue feathers. Just like most people attending, the two had cast certain charms that caused them to look unfamiliar to each other. The only way Harry could recognize his friend was by her elaborate costume. 

     While Harry was pondering the nature of their outfits, Daphne had stopped walking. "We're here," she said cheerfully, and the wall slid open to reveal a decked-out version of the Room of Requirements. Windows draped with green velvet opened into the grounds, showing a gorgeous view of the lake, while chandeliers dripping with golden ornaments hung from the domed ceiling. Renaissance style paintings decorated the area around the chandeliers. The walls were ivory and gold; nude Grecian statues stood in small alcoves, erotic in their positioning. Couches were placed along the outskirts of the room; and, on those couches, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors alike were tangled together. Not only were there witches and wizards, but certain fairies and veela were mixed into the groups, characterized by icy white skin and gossamer wings. 

     "Brilliant, no?" Daphne said, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. 

     "Very much so." His gaze was trained on the couches. Not only was he shocked, but also very intrigued, especially when he saw people that he knew gracing the fabric. Unmasked and uncharmed Gregory Goyle was one of them, turned handsome with age, and he locked eyes with the curious boy. Harry turned away with a blush. 

     "How are you enjoying the revelry?" Arms slid around Daphne's shoulders. Upon closer inspection, those arms were revealed to belong to the one and only Pansy Parkinson, recognizable by her midnight black costume directly from  _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_.

     "We only just got here," was Daphne's response. The blue-eyed girl twisted around to connect their lips, drawing a burst of laughter from her partner. The pair's hands entwined. 

     "Harry, do you mind if we go off for awhile? You have plenty of friends here, surely you can find one of them." Daphne's voice was soft, but her eyes were pleading, desperate for some time along with her girlfriend. 

     Harry offered them a smile. "Don't worry about me. Go off and dance; I'll find some of my other friends."

     Daphne touched Harry's shoulder briefly before curling into Pansy. "Merlin bless you, Harry. I promise that I'll try and find you before the party's over, if it ever is." And then she was gone, the blue and stygian black of the pair's dresses fluttering together as they ran. 

     Harry considered standing in the corner for the rest of the night before dismissing the idea. Daphne was right; Harry had enough friends to not be lonely, and he didn't plan on staying by himself for the entire night. The second idea that came to his mind was darker and seemed much more luxurious. Gregory's eyes had been alluring, and Harry didn't want to abandon the temptation. 

     He weaved through the crowd, surprisingly large, making his way to the couch where he had seen Gregory. It was a soft blue combined with pearly white, fitting in perfectly with the opulence of the room. However, before he could reach the couch, somebody knocked into him, causing him to stumble. 

     "Excuse you," he mumbled, and turned, coming face to face with somebody who smelled of cedar. 

     The person was quite obviously dressed as the warlock from  _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_ , matching Daphne perfectly in style. The man's coat was a lovely forest green, held together with a golden clasp. The suit beneath was a deep sapphire blue. His hair was slicked back, dyed a deep black, and mask--in the same style as Harry's golden one--was navy and made of velvet. The only thing visible of him were his lips, luscious and pink, and his eyes, blue as northern ice. 

     "And who are you?" The man rumbled, his voice as rich as a cello. Harry felt his toes curl.

     "I thought the point of a masquerade was to not know who people are."

     The warlock let out musical laugh, peering down at Harry with those snowy eyes. "You're snarky... I like that. What other things are you good at?"

     Harry's irritation flared. The man held a Malfoy-like arrogance, one that he found both irksome and irresistibly attractive. "Whatever you like."

     He could almost see the warlock's eyebrows. "Is that so? Perhaps you'd like to show me your dancing skills." The music that had started drifting through the room was a waltz. Harry grinned, knowing the dance like the back of his hand from hours of boredom at the Dursley's.

     "Of course." Harry offered the warlock his hand. "Let's get going, then." And suddenly they were moving, caught in the clockwork on the partners around them, who whirled green and gold and red in a room of luxury. 

     The warlock's masked face was close to Harry's. His eyes were twinkling, almost silver in the candlelight, like moonlight glistening upon snow. Harry wanted to press himself against the man then and there. He held himself back, and instead settled for smiling in what he hoped was a sexy way. 

     The warlock exhaled roughly. "I don't even know who you are, but I have a feeling that you're beautiful."

     Harry quirked a brow, even if the man couldn't see it. "Am I now?"

     "Oh, yes. I know you. I definitely know you. But what is your name? What is your face?" The pair stopped dancing. Around them, dancers spun, like ballerinas in music boxes. 

     "Perhaps," Harry said, grinning. "So I know you, then. A Slytherin?"

     "Of course." The music shifted from a waltz into something more modern. The pair exited the dance floor towards an area with tables towering high with posh foods. Harry selected something that looked like a donut and bit into it, surprised when the taste of goat cheese and olives conquered all other tastes in his mouth. 

     "That's... different," he muttered, casting a scandalized look at the 'donut'. The warlock let out a laugh.

     "Want something sweeter?" Harry nodded. "Try this." The masked man's fingertips brushed Harry's lips as he held up a pastry, this one coated with a fine layer of glimmering sugar. Harry took a bite into it. Chestnut took over the taste of goat cheese, and his eyes drifted closed, his mind caught in memories of his first Christmas at Hogwarts. 

     "Amazing, right?" Harry smiled and nodded, opening his eyes.

     "Definitely. What is that?"

     The warlock chuckled, glancing at the pastry in his hand. "I'm actually not quite sure. It was just covered in sugar, and I had one of these earlier and thought it was good." He paused. "Do you know what sounds good right now? Champagne."

     Harry raised a brow. "Champagne? I've heard it's highly overrated."

     The warlock's eyes grew wide. His hands darted out and snagged two champagne glasses from the table, handing one to his partner. "Overrated? And are you saying that you've never had champagne before?"

     "I haven't had the chance to." Almost immediately, Harry felt sympathy radiate from the warlock. 

     "Surprisingly, I understand that. As a child, admittedly, I did have my share of luxuries. But I never understood what it was like to have close friends, to run through a forest barefoot in summer... I didn't understand what it was like to be a child." The man's voice grew sad. He turned away from Harry and sipped at his champagne absentmindedly, frowning. "My friends at Hogwarts taught me how to be a kid, even though I was a brat. Still am."

     Harry smiled softly to himself in understanding. But rather than say anything, he took a sip of the champagne, relishing the taste on his tongue. "You were right, warlock," he sighed, "champagne is truly amazing."

     "Ha! What did I say? Anyway... tell me about yourself, pirate. Though make sure to keep your identity a secret. I enjoy the mystery." The warlock's voice had become deep and sultry. Harry felt chills race down his spine, almost like cold fingertips. 

     "Hm... what is there to say? I'm a painter. Nobody knows that about me, and only you will now, even if you don't know who I am. Though I must admit, I'm horrendous when it comes to painting people. I paint animals. My favorite are thestrals. They're so beautiful... have you ever seen one?"

     The man's eyes were sad. "Unfortunately, I have. They are quite beautiful. As for me... I sing opera. A lot like you, nobody knows about this, save for my closest friends and immediate family. I'd like to say I'm good, but I'm truly not sure if I am."

     "I'm sure you are." The two had somehow drifted closer, electricity buzzing between them. Harry was gazing at the warlock's lips, which were wet from the champagne, and imagined what they would taste like. It wasn't too difficult. When his gaze moved upwards, he made eye contact with the man, whose lips were quirked in a smile. 

     "Staring at my lips, are you?" he purred, and Harry turned away in embarrassment. "Oh, don't be embarrassed. You can do it all you like."

     A blush overtook Harry's face, and he was suddenly glad that the mask hid most of his face. He forced himself to be brave. "Oh, I plan on it."

     The man's laughter mimicked the champagne they had had just moments before. "Flirtatious as well? Oh, you're truly making me happy tonight, pirate." Suddenly, the two were pressed together, their noses almost brushing. The warlock's eyes twinkled. "Any other ways you'd like to make me happy?"

     And suddenly, they were kissing, the electricity of their emotions exploding between them, fireworks dancing red as love. Harry didn't know who the man was. But whoever he was, he planned to discover his identity and whisper it to him as he kissed, to hold his hand during mealtimes. It was a gossamer dream, one of somebody who he didn't truly know. But it was still a dream. 

     The warlock nipped Harry's lower lip. Harry melted into him, pleasure rolling through him, hands exploring areas that should never be explored in public. But this was a Slytherin party, and a masked one at that. However, their kiss was interrupted as Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around. There stood Daphne, drunk and swaying, without Pansy. 

     "Hey," she murmured, running a hand through her mop of golden curls. "We're playing truth or dare, and you're quite welcome to join us." She peered behind him, making eye contact with the warlock. "Him too."

     Harry turned and gazed at his partner, who looked slightly miffed. Recognizing that Daphne wasn't going to leave anytime soon, the warlock sighed and grabbed his partner's hand, to Harry's pleasure. "Why not. We can continue later, no?"

     The two followed Daphne to a group that was lounging on a mint colored couch. These people were clothed, though all had drinks in their hands, and were close enough together that Harry wouldn't be surprised if a couple of them started making out. One of them was Pansy, her dress hiked up as she sat down on the ground. In her hand was a glass of butterbeer that was clearly spiked. When she glanced at them, her lips formed a little o shape before splitting into a grin. 

     "Oh, look at that. Join us, will you?" Harry stared at her, confused, but she only made eye contact with him for a moment before Daphne fell into her arms. 

     The warlock leaned in close to Harry. "This is stupid. Why are we playing truth or dare? We aren't thirteen anymore."

     Pansy looked irritated, clearly having heard the warlock's remark. "It's still fun. Anyway, truth or dare at out age has more booze and sex. Oh, but don't worry... I pinky promise that I won't make either of you do anything to anyone else." She winked. 

     Harry glanced at his partner in confusion. The man just looked irritated, his lips pursed. "Don't be ridiculous. Who's starting?"

     An uncharmed Blaise Zabini, who was perched beside a curvy woman on the couch, waved a lace gloved hand. "Me, darling. But first... everybody, follow my hand movements." Blaise did a simple set of hand movements. Everybody followed them, and afterwards, it felt like a cuff had been clamped around Harry's wrist.

     "What the hell was that?" he asked.

     "Just a simple truth charm. No lying here, though, unfortunately, you can still opt out of dares if you resist hard enough. Theo, truth or dare?"

     The person who Blaise had pointed to, who was apparently Theodore Nott, frowned. "Why would you reveal my identity like that?"

     "Just answer the damn question."

     "Truth it is."

     Blaise wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, you're so dull. Name all the teachers at Hogwarts that you've fucked. Ah--don't give me that look. I know you've done a lot of them."

     Theodore, looking extremely uncomfortable and resistant, started to speak. "Uh... only substitutes, I promise. There was that one who subbed for McGonagall in sixth year, and another who subbed for Sprout this year. That's all, I swear. Not like I can lie anyway. Anyway, ah... you there, dressed as Death. Truth or dare?"

     The person dressed as Death was the curvy woman next to Blaise. She shifted, her cloak moving with her. "Dare. Make it interesting."

     "Join one of the couches for another turn. I'm sure that they will mind, and neither will you." 

     The woman's red lips curved into a smile. "I don't even need to resist your little charm, Blaise. Before I leave, truth or dare, girl in the black dress?"

     Pansy considered her question, then grinned. "Dare."

     "I guess you'll be naked for the rest of the game. I hope that nobody recognizes your ass, save for your girlfriend, of course." She then stood, and, leaving her cloak on their couch, moved towards the one nearest to them, joining the mix. 

     Pansy scowled and swore. "Whatever." She stripped down quickly and wrapped her arms around herself, using Daphne as a barrier between her and the rest of the world. "Any word of this ever, for those of you who know my identity, and I will murder you guys in your sleep. Anyway... pirate, truth or dare?"

     Harry startled. He hadn't actually wanted to participate in the revelry, nor had he expected to be chosen so quickly. "Er... truth."

     Blaise, who suddenly had a blunt in his hand, laughed dryly. "Great. Another dull person. Let me guess... you're a Hufflepuff, aren't you."

     A girl across from Harry scoffed, crossing her arms and throwing her head back like a horse tossing its mane. "Wow, seriously? You don't have to be such a cunt all the time, Blaise. Not all Hufflepuffs are boring."

     "I'm the cunt? Honey, calm your tits," Blaise sneered. 

     Before the girl could respond, Pansy cleared her throat. "As much as I would love to watch you two tear each other's throats out, we have a game to play, and I'd much rather continue that instead. Pirate, you said truth, eh? Tell me all the people you've had crushes on while at Hogwarts, and which of those people you've slept with. Now, don't be shy... and don't give me that look."

     The look in Harry's eyes was murderous. He could almost see his future self looking back on that moment and cringing, wondering why he would ever admit such a thing. Slowly, he opened his mouth to speak, compelled by the charm. "Er... Hermione Granger, Cedric Diggory, and..." He tried to force the last name back into his lungs. It tugged on his lips, begging to be spoken, but he resisted with a considerable amount of effort. 

     Daphne drawled, "Come on, we don't have all day."

     "...Draco Malfoy," he blurted, and beside him, the warlock choked on the air. 

     People on the couch started murmuring. Both Blaise and Pansy gaped at him, while Daphne only squinted, looking as if she wasn't actually seeing him. Blaise stood, taking a hit from his blunt. "Are you fucking serious?"

     All Harry could do was nod. Blaise huffed, handing the blunt to one of the people on the couch. "I'd think you were lying, except for the charm. And, anyway... you have yet to say the second part."

     Harry felt furious. It was such a blatant invasion of privacy- "Cedric. That's all."

     The energy radiating from the warlock beside him was strangely volatile. Harry could almost taste the electricity, bitter and overly sweet, so strong it made him dizzy. He glanced at his partner. The man was still, but a fire blazed in his eyes. But he was surprised to see that it was directed at Pansy instead of at him. 

     "How dare you," the warlock said quietly, startling Pansy. 

     "I'm sorry, what-"

     "There's a difference between truth or dare questions and what you just asked. That was an invasion of privacy."

     Pansy laughed, but she sounded shocked. "What? This is truth or dare, hun. This whole game is an invasion of privacy. For example," she unclothed at her naked body. "This whole mess. This is the game, dumbass. Stop being such a spoilsport."

     The man was vibrating with anger, but stayed quiet. Harry, sympathizing with his embarrassment, rested his hand on his shoulder. The warlock startled. He jerked away from Harry, giving the boy who lived a deer-in-the-headlights look, as if he were caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. 

     "Pirate? Truth or dare somebody already," Blaise piped up. Harry was starting to get tired of the boy's pompous ass. 

     "You there, the girl that advocated for Hufflepuffs... truth or dare?"

     The girl flashed a wild smile, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders as she leaned forward. "Dare."

     Harry thought for a moment. "Go rescue our dear friend with the black dress from the couch she went from, but first, you must join her for a bit." Immediately after he spoke, he felt a spike of guilt. The dare seemed too much; however, the golden haired girl only smiled, flipping her hair. 

     "You're on, treasure boy. I can play that game." The group watched as she waltzed over to the mint green couch and snagged the curvy girl's wrist, tugging her out of the group before pulling them together. Harry turned away.

     After five minutes of light chatter within the circle, the two girls returned, the curvy girl back in her black dress and their hands entwined. The golden haired girl surveyed the crowd with a critical eye. "Boy in the warlock costume... truth or dare?"

     Beneath his touch, Harry felt the warlock jerk. "Uh... dare."

     A slow smile spread onto the golden haired girl's face. She leaned forward onto her knees, hair swishing around her shoulders. "See that pretty little pirate beside us? Give us a little lap dance on him, will you?"

     The warlock pursed his lips. However, he didn't protest, and instead slowly turned to face his partner. He smiled seductively, but it wobbled just a bit. "I'm sorry for this, before I do it." He paused. "Though not for whatever happens the rest of the night."

     Then, suddenly, the man was on Harry's lap. He rolled his hips, once, twice, their gazes colliding in a burst of fire. Harry kept his moans to himself for that moment. The warlock grinned wildly. Though the lap dance itself was not overly creative, it ignited a fire within Harry's stomach, one he wasn't sure he wanted to extinguish. On one hand, it was terrifying; he could get oh so terribly burned. But on the other hand, it warmed his entire body, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Harry decided that he would stoke the fire for as long as he could. 

     A little rivulet of sweat made its way out of the warlock's mask. The man's eyes were wild, unfocused and foggy, as if he were high. Harry felt the same way; he felt as if he had just taken a hallucinogenic, the beauty of the room and the warlock within nothing but a pipe dream. When the warlock nipped at his neck, the flame within Harry's burst into a bonfire. 

     Unaware of the heat within Harry, the warlock leaned backwards, flipping his hair out of his eyes. He grinned wildly. "Not bad for a first time, eh?"

     Harry was speechless. He tried to cover up his shyness with a joke, but nothing came out. The heat from his stomach had migrated to a place that he was both frightened and eager for the warlock to discover. 

     As the warlock moved to get off of him, Harry's  _migrated heat_ brushed against his leg, halting him. Instead of the laughter Harry had expected, the warlock's wild smile only turned wicked. 

     "Oh, you dirty boy," the warlock breathed, quiet enough that nobody else could hear them. "No need to be so shy. After all... we wouldn't be the only ones at this party doing things like that." Instead of bringing things any further, though, the man contradicted his words and removed himself from Harry's lap. "Blaise... truth or dare, my friend."

     Though the game continued, Harry's only thoughts were on the heat that moved inside him like a hurricane of longing and the warlock who caused that exact feeling to bubble up. That heat only grew worse as the warlock not so subtly placed his hand on Harry's thigh. 

     Harry stilled. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and his hands were shaking, but he hid the quivering by knotting them behind his back. He didn't even think about how that allowed the warlock full access to everything he had to offer. 

     The game's noise dulled around them. The warlock's hand slowly crept higher and higher, until it was at the point where Harry's leg met his torso. He didn't try to stop him. The warlock toyed with Harry's waistband, a small smirk on his face, nobody noticing the absolute sinfulness going on just in front of their eyes. Or perhaps they did notice, but it didn't matter due to their atmosphere. As his hand slipped into Harry's waistband, Harry inhaled sharply. Just the feeling of the man's hand against his skin was otherworldly. However, that didn't compare to how it felt when that hand started moving against him. 

     Harry couldn't help but let out a soft moan, tilting his head so that it rested against the warlock's shoulder. His body wanted to thrust, but he restrained himself, fearful of the eyes of his classmates. 

     "It's okay, love," the warlock murmured, his pace quickening. "They don't mind. I like it when you make noise."

     The nickname itself made Harry gasp with delight. He began to move against the warlock's hand, all self-consciousness gone. Little moans escaped his mouth until he was practically riding the warlock's hand. However, as the man sensed that Harry was reaching his end, he snatched his hand away, leaving Harry gasping for more. 

     "Please," Harry murmured to his lover, their hands tangling together. "You have no idea... please."

     The warlock pressed a kiss against Harry's neck. "Let's go somewhere more private, shall we?"

     Almost as if he were in a trance, Harry stood and followed the man away from their game group, the eyes of their classmates forgotten and ignored. They exited the Room of Requirement and ran through Hogwarts. Harry was laughing, feeling freer than ever as they ran down, down down, down to the Slytherin common rooms. They tumbled into the green room in a tangle. Only a few students were there, as it was during the Christmas holidays and almost four a.m. at that. They ran up the stairs and into the Slytherin dorms, where rooms were separated but small, shutting the door behind them as they ended up in one of the small rooms. As he assumed the rest of the rooms were, it was green and silver, but seemingly without anything personal. The only things Harry saw that could be considered personal were a leather bound book worn with age and an open bottle of cologne that smelled so familiar it make his heart ache. When the warlock saw where Harry's gaze had fallen, he took the boy's chin in his hand and turned his face towards him. 

     "Whatever happens tonight, promise me that you will not try to discover my identity. I will not try to discover yours. The charm I cast on myself wears off in two hours... if you fall asleep beside me, please, please keep it dark as you leave, and whatever you do, do not take of my mask." The words were blurred together with the speed in which the warlock said them in. Harry nodded, eager to fall into bed with the man. 

     "I promise," Harry breathed, and the two tumbled onto the bad.

     The warlock immediately straddled him. Though the mask and the charm hid who he was, Harry recognized great beauty in the man, with his sharp as glass jawline and eyes that looked like shards of glass. The man's gorgeous lips twisted into a smile. "Are you staring at me?"

     "Of course." Harry reached up and ran his thumb against the warlock's lips. The warlock inhaled sharply, his eyes widening.

     "Merlin, that's so hot," both of them murmured simultaneously, though neither of them thought to care as they collided like two falling stars.  

     Everything was made of fire. Harry moaned beneath the warlock's touch, everything tight and wet and warm, the taste of champagne on their breaths and tongues and hearts mingling. Harry writhed beneath him. The warlock, his breath hot against the center of Harry's abdomen, let out a gorgeous moan as Harry grabbed his length, pumping up and down as his own length was taken into the warlock's mouth. 

     They were in an acrobatic tangle, a circus of passion, a carnival of wonder and lust so intriguing that Harry wished to never leave. It was everything Harry had ever dreamed of but nothing like he had ever expected. Instead of an awkward mess, it was a natural rhythm as the warlock eventually grabbed Harry's hips and flipped him over, entering him with a shaky sigh. 

     Harry's head flung back as he let out a cry. The warlock must've cast some sort of charm, because he was entered easily, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The warlock's grip on his hips tightened. The warlock leaved forward, a part of his mask brushed against Harry, both soft and rough. 

     Eventually, stars burst behind Harry's shut eyes. His cry was a roar. Together, the warlock and the pirate finished together, holding onto each other as if they were falling through space and time. The warlock's tight group on Harry loosened. He stroked the boy's back, gentle and sweet, as they curled together on the bed. 

     "We should probably clean up," Harry sighed, and the warlock picked up his wand from where he had thrown it and waved it, clearing the bed of anything left from their exploration. 

     Harry stared at the warlock with tired but content eyes. The sight of him was eerie, wearing nothing but black socks and his mask, but his body was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. His skin was unblemished save for a few scars and a bruise on his neck left by Harry's eager lips. His skin was white as the moon, glistening with sweat, though the black and white image was marred by a beige bandage that covered one of his arms. Harry brushed the area lightly. 

     "What happened here?" he asked softly, and the warlock touched Harry's lips with the tips of his fingers.

     "Shh... don't ruin the moment." He nuzzled his mask-clad face into Harry's neck and inhaled deeply, smiling as he smelled the boy's musky scent. 

     Harry looked down at the man and smiled softly, worried about the bandage. But he vowed to bring in up in the morning; after all, the warlock was right. Why ruin a perfectly good moment?

\----------

     Harry awoke to darkness. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, smiling as he felt the warmth of the warlock's body against him. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table; it was seven, meaning he had only slept for two hours. His groan was one of irritation, but his smile was of happiness. He was about to turn on the light to wake and tease the warlock when he remember what he had been told just hours before. 

     ' _Whatever happens tonight, promise me that you will not try to discover my identity. I will not try to discover yours. The charm I cast on myself wears off in two hours... if you fall asleep beside me, please, please keep it dark as you leave, and whatever you do, do not take of my mask_.'

     He frowned. Despite the warning in the warlock's words, he was still terribly curious about the man's identity. He sat up, his frown deepening. Everything in the room was a hint to the identity of said person: the cologne, the book, the wand, the warlock's own face... a different kind of temptation and longing wrapped around Harry's heart like thorns. He pursed his lips and, in the heat of the moment, decided to take off the warlock's mask. 

     "It's alright..." he muttered to himself, his words but a whisper. "He won't notice, if I'm very quick..." He grabbed his wand from the wad of clothes on the floor and murmured, _"Lumos_ _minimus_." 

     His wand went alight with a faint glow. The warlock, pale and gleaming, was curled into his pillow, his face half hidden. Harry cursed. He crept slightly closer and slid two fingers underneath the fabric of the warlock's mask, pulling upwards... 

     Harry gasped and threw himself backwards, knocking into the wall with a bang. The warlock's eyes flew open. The warlock, Draco Malfoy, sat up so quickly that Harry flinched. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Draco barked. "I asked you one thing.  _One fucking thing_ , you idiot. Who are you, anyway-"

     Draco flicked on the light and fell silent. "Are you fucking joking? Wow, okay. Harry fucking Potter, who apparently had a crush on me."

     "Has." Harry whispered. 

     "Excuse me?"

     " _Has_ a crush on you, you insolent douchebag. Don't yell at me!"

     Draco stood, ignoring the fact that he was still naked, and leapt out of bed, shoving himself against Harry aggressively. This time, the movement was not lustful. "Listen up here, you lying piece of shit. I asked one thing of you. Now I will have to live with the fact that I fucked the Boy Who Lived, the Golden Boy, a fucking Potter. You betrayed my trust." He went silent. The next time he spoke, his voice was slow and soft. "Get out."

     Harry blinked. "What?"

     "Are you deaf? I said, get the fuck out of my room!" Draco shoved the boy with all his might. Harry went tumbling out the door and onto his ass, right in front of Blaise Zabini. 

     The boy smirked devilishly. "So, you two finally discovered each others identities."

     Draco's shadow appeared in the doorway. It stretched long, like the cloak of a dementor. "Blaise, are you meaning to tell me that you knew he was Harry Potter the entire time?" His voice was dangerously quiet. 

     Blaise's smile faded. He took a step back, raising his hands. "Well, not the entire time. Just after he said he had a crush you."

     "So you're telling me that not only did you know his identity, but that you've also known for awhile that he's had a crush on me, and you didn't even think to mention it to me? Is everyone just an idiot tonight?" Draco's eyes went almost black with rage.

     "Mate, it wasn't that difficult to tell. He stares at you all the time." That was the comment that drove Draco to slam Blaise against the wall, their faces so close together that their noses almost brushed. Harry stared up at them from the floor, shocked. 

     " _THAT IS FUCKING IRRELEVANT._ You didn't tell me something like this, and now I have to live with how I unknowingly slept-"

     The words sent shards of pain through Harry's entire body. He cringed away from the both of them, curling in on himself, suddenly conscious of the fact that both of them were nude. Well, actually, all of them; all Blaise was wearing was a necklace and his lacy gloves. 

     Harry took the moment to escape. He scrambled away from the both of them, grabbing his pants from Draco's dorm room and sliding them onq before darting away, skidding through the common room and out into the halls. No matter how far and fast he ran, Draco's words still echoed in his ears. 

     " _-now I have to live with how I unknowingly slept-_ "

     Harry repeated a mantra in his head.  _It isn't my fault. It isn't my fault. It isn't my fault._ Because, in the end of the day, it truly wasn't. 

     He eventually reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. His breath came out in short gasps, which he found quite peculiar due to how he wasn't all that tired. Sweat dripped from his face. However, when he reached up to wipe off the sweat, he discovered that it was actually tears. 


End file.
